Chapter 7: Alright

It had been ringing too long.

Ten seconds, twenty, thirty… For almost an entire minute the phone rang, and for almost an entire minute Malia stood there with her heart in her throat, thinking not of the fact that it was below 30 degrees and snowing and how she had forgotten her coat, not of the fact that she was still on the clock at work.

All she could think of was him. Stiles.

The answering machine picked up, and she immediately hung up the phone and hit redial. She didn't know how long she'd stood there, had no idea how many times she'd called him. But she knew one thing – she needed to talk to him. She needed to hear his voice, know that he was doing fine.

She barely heard the door to the shop open, hardly registered Kira standing next to her. But she knew what her friend would say before she said it.

"Come inside, Malia, please," she told her, worry evident in her voice. "He'll call back. I'm sure of it."

Malia shut her eyes, trying to focus only on the sound of the dialtone, of the ringing. She couldn't stand not knowing for sure; she couldn't listen to Kira every time she told her that everything would be alright in her calm tone.

Everything was not alright.

"Malia –"

The brunette hung up the phone once more, her hands shaking – not from the cold, but from the urgency, the fear. She spun on her heel, breezing past her friend and back into the shop, but she only planned on staying momentarily. Malia bristled at the sound of laughter from a small group near the front as she passed, grabbing her coat off the hook behind the counter and pulling it on without a moment's hesitation.

"Where are you going? Malia?" Kira's words were like an echo in her mind, distant and hard to focus on. The brunette didn't say a word to her, just walked right past her and out the door again.

Malia slammed the door to her car, not bothering to lock it as she headed straight for the building in front of her. The Beacon Hills Police Department looked almost deserted, save for a few cars in the front and a light on inside, but she wasn't about to let that discourage her.

She went inside, running her fingers through her already disheveled hair, looking around. About thirty seconds passed before she heard someone clear their throat, getting her attention.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Malia looked at the woman sitting behind the front desk for a long moment before managing to find the right words she wanted to say. "I need to see Sheriff Parrish."

"Well, he's currently busy, but if you'd like to wait here –"

She was only half-listening, her eyes finding the door to his office at the back of the station, her feet moving before the woman had even finished speaking. She heard her protests, calling after her to 'stop' and 'wait' but she kept going until she was pushing open the door to Parrish's office without even knocking, finding him sitting at his desk, speaking to someone on the phone.

When he saw her, he started to stand up. "Uh, Richard, I'm gonna have to call you back," he told the person on the phone, before hanging up and looking at Malia. "Can I help you?"

"Stiles. Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski," Malia blurted out. "I want to know where he is and why. I need you to tell me everything."

"Um… can you start by telling me who you are?" Parrish asked, his eyebrows pulling together as he moved around to the front of his desk, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed her, trying to read her in a matter of seconds.

"I'm his girlfriend and I haven't heard from him in almost a week," she explained.

He nodded slowly. "Okay, okay I see. Well, the next town over was having some trouble getting things under control so they asked for our help. I asked for volunteers and –"

"Volunteers?" Malia sounded horrified.

"Mostly volunteers," Parrish corrected. "Some of the deputies – including Stilinski – were given an opportunity, as I'm sure he told you. A chance to prove themselves, if you will."

Malia remembered what Stiles had told her about him being promoted to detective, and how he had had no choice but to take the temporary transfer in order to keep the title. She frowned. "So you're saying that if he hadn't gone to that town to help out… he wouldn't have gotten the promotion?"

Parrish sighed, shaking his head. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I gave Stiles the promotion weeks ago, a few days after I had been appointed sheriff." He told her. "This was just his first chance to really put himself to the test, show us if giving him that title was the right choice."

"Okay, then how has he been doing so far?"

"Look, I don't care who you are – that's not something I can discuss with you –"

"Fine, whatever," Malia shot back, waving off his words dismissively. "Just tell me he's okay. You get reports everyday, don't you? You probably expect them to keep you up to date with everything that goes on. You've got to know something."

Parrish looked at her for a long time, considering. She really did seem desperate for information, and he wasn't the type to be cold hearted and kick someone out. He sighed, straightening up.

"I spoke to someone yesterday," Parrish finally said. "So far, things have still been a little hectic. I'm sure you've seen the news reports. But as far as I know our guys are doing fine." He glanced up over her shoulder, and then something changed. "Look, if I hear anything about Stilinski, I'll let you know. I promise. But I can't do anything for you now."

Malia followed his gaze, looking behind her to find a pretty redhead standing in the doorway. She was holding two take-out boxes and smelled like Thai food. "Sorry to interrupt…"

"No, it's okay, Lydia. We were just finishing up," Parrish assured her with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm leaving now," Malia murmured, before turning and starting to leave.

But as she moved, he added, "I'll call you when I find out more. What was your name again?"

She stopped, swallowing. "It's Malia. Malia Tate," she said, before quickly heading out of his office. His words should have made her feel better – if she could trust anyone to tell her what was going on, it should have been him – but she still felt sick.

Malia had no idea how long she'd been sitting by the window, watching the snowflakes flutter by on their way down to the ground far below, glittering in the light from the street lamp. She hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring the mug sitting on the table next to her, still full of cold, long-forgotten tea.

She was so lost in thought that she jumped when she heard someone cry out suddenly, the sound of someone colliding with a solid object bringing her back to reality.

"Sorry," they said, and Malia let out a sigh of relief when she realized that it was just Scott. He was spending the night – something he didn't do often, so it still kind of surprised her to see him wearing pajama pants and walking around barefoot in her living room. "I was trying to be quiet… I was really hungry and gonna grab something from the kitchen – are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I just couldn't sleep," Malia said almost too fast, standing up and grabbing her mug.

She could feel Scott's eyes on her as she walked past him and into the kitchen, and knew almost instantly that he didn't believe her. "Alright, we both know that I know what you know." Scott paused, shaking his head. "Okay, that made no sense. I know that Stiles is gone and that he hasn't called. I haven't heard from him either, actually."

Malia stopped in her tracks, the cogs in her mind working again. That didn't make any sense. He hadn't called his girlfriend and he hadn't called his best friend? Something wasn't right.

"I wish I knew what was going on, Malia, I really do," he sighed, leaning his hands onto the island in the middle of the room. "But everyone's being really tight-lipped about it all. All I know is it's a big case and they're close to cracking it." He rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should have finished police school after all."

She turned to face him then, setting the mug on the counter. "Why didn't you?" Malia asked, grateful for the temporary distraction.

"I don't know – wasn't for me? Stiles was always better at figuring things out, the way that the police do," he explained, shrugging. "I dropped out. Got my degree and started working odd jobs here and there, trying to find something I really loved."

"Which has been your favorite one so far?" She inquired.

Scott thought for a second, before smiling fondly. "Animal clinic."

Malia laughed, shaking her head and dumping the cold tea down the sink, not expecting his answer. "Good choice," she told him. "Well, I think I'm gonna try and sleep now. Enjoy your snacks."

"I will," he said as she started heading out of the room. "Hey." She stopped, looking back. "Don't give up hope. He really liked you, you know. He wouldn't just leave you behind."

She bit her lip and nodded, trying not to let him see the tears that were forming in her eyes. She turned and headed down the hallway to her room, shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it for a second, taking a deep breath. One glance at the clock on her nightstand told her that it was half past three in the morning, and that she really needed to get some sleep.

But she was frozen, there against the door, her mind reeling.

Malia was just so tired of hearing people tell her that everything was going to be alright. It was almost as if they were saying that her worrying was irrational, and that was almost like a slap in the face.

Of course she wanted to believe that everything would be alright, but every bone in her body was against that. She didn't know when or how, but she had fallen hard for him somewhere along the way, and that had just caused her nothing but pain for the past few days. She just wanted to know something, anything, be it good or bad.

It was the not knowing that was killing her.

She ran her hands over her face, forcing herself to move, to get into bed and to stop thinking for a little while. Staying up all night thinking of what could happen wasn't doing anything but driving her crazy, so she figured that her only way of escaping was to sleep.

Malia awoke to the sound of her phone blaring its ringtone a few hours later.

She didn't remember falling asleep, and was completely disoriented when she sat up, trying to feel for her cell phone in the crumpled sheets. Once she finally grabbed it and picked up, Malia rubbed her eyes and cleared her throat, trying to pull herself together. "Hello. Hello?"

"Is this Malia Tate?"

"Yes, who is this?" She asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and glancing at the clock. It was almost five in the morning.

"This is Sheriff Parrish from the Beacon Hills Police Department. You told me to call you if I heard anything about Stiles…" He trailed off, and suddenly Malia was on her feet, her eyes wide as she waited.

But he said nothing.

The silence was deafening.

"What about him? Hello?" She could feel her heartbeat racing, faster and faster as each second passed. Malia started pacing back and forth, chewing on her nails in anxiety.

"Malia… I think you'd better get down to the hospital. Now."